


On the Road

by SecurityBreach



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Asgardian Tony Stark, Betrayal, Curses, Evil Odin (Marvel), Fantastic Racism, Internalized Homophobia, Jotun Loki, Loki Feels, Loki Gets a Hug, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki's resistance, M/M, Magic, Not Thor friendly, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Questing, References to Earth-616, Secret Identity, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Sorcerers, Stealing, Taking serious liberties with Norse Mythology, Thor's friends are dicks, Thor's not a good guy, Tony Feels, Tony Stark is a smith on Asgard, Witches, aftermath of war, and so does tony, bankrupt Tony, broke Tony Stark, quack doctors, seiðmenn, travelling, Æsir | Aesir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-02-26 10:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13233579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecurityBreach/pseuds/SecurityBreach
Summary: Jötunheim has been defeated by the Aesir 1000 years ago, and the realm is dying. The Jötnar put all their hope in Loki, their youngest prince, who is a powerful sorcerer. He travels to Asgard to look for help and save his people from becoming extinct.





	1. The First Step is the Hardest

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled hard to jog along with Marvel and make Laufey Loki's father in this story, but I soon found I couldn't. Sorry! The Norse myths have been part of my life much longer than the comic books or movies, and although I'm taking serious liberties with Norse mythology again, I just had to draw the line somewhere. So Laufey is Loki's mother, and Fárbauti his father.
> 
> Please take my warnings about the way I write Thor, Odin, and Thor's friends seriously: Don't like, don't read. I've been kind of shell-shocked by _Thor: The Dark World_ , and _Ragnarok_ didn't help me at all to get over it. Thank you!

A quick handshake, a hug that lasts slightly longer, and his brother was gone.

Loki watched sadly as Helblindi turned away and disappeared into the forest, leaving him on his own on this strange, hostile realm, and not knowing if they would ever meet again in this life.

“Come, little Frost Giant,” his Aesir guide, who called himself Harald Skopti, told him.

_ Jötunn, _ Loki thought.  _ We’re the Jötnar.  _ He still wasn’t sure if he liked the man. Harald Skopti surely tried to act friendly, and calling Loki by this hateful, derogatory term for his people was most likely just the kind of thoughtless crudities he had been told to expect from the denizens of Asgard. Well, Loki needed him for now, and Helblindi had given the man a generous amount of gold nuggets to ensure his loyalty for the following month.  _ Placer gold from the river Vimur, no coins, so its origin couldn’t be traced back to Jötunheim. _

Loki hoped that four weeks would be enough to introduce him to the finer points of living on Asgard, and that this would help him to accomplish the mission he had been training for all his life.

Harald waited for an answer, and shrugged when he received none. “Nightfall comes early at this time of year, Loki. We need to leave now if we want to find shelter.”

“Of course,” the Jötunn said, mounting his horse.  _ Brúnn, another important name for me to remember_. “But please call me Lopt from now on. And no more references to the Jötnar.”

The Áss laughed at that. “Don’t worry,  _ Lopt_. You look Aesir enough. The black hair looks a bit outlandish, but it could hint at some Vanir heritage somewhere along your pedigree.”

A sore spot, that. His mentors had tried hard to give him blond curls and a beard, but somehow it had always looked wrong, no matter which charm they used. It made Loki _feel_ wrong, and, as an experienced shape-shifter, he knew that such feelings ought to be taken seriously and decided to keep his own hair. The Jötunn eyed his guide’s ginger mess of a hairstyle. Harald wore his curly hair and his beard very long, and both looked unkempt and not very clean. And it made perfectly clear where the man’s byname came from: ‘Skopti’ means ‘ head of hair ’, and suggested that the bearer of this name was very hairy indeed.

Loki didn’t even know the man’s real name.

A certain amount of secrecy was vital for surviving the kind of business they were involved in.

*****

_ Loki was born on the eve of the Jötnar’s surrender that ended the war against the Aesir roughly 1000 years ago. He was the third child of Fárbauti and Laufey, who had been the rulers of Jötunheim for centuries. His brothers, Helblindi and Byleist, were already approaching their adolescence and his mother, Laufey, was considered to be past the age of child-bearing. Her unexpected pregnancy was seen as a good omen and triggered a general wish for peace among the Jötnar after decades of warfare. Even before his birth, his people started to call the prince  _ Peace-bringer _. Fárbauti and Laufey decided to take the hint and contacted Odin All-father, the king of Asgard. They had just lost a major battle and had to retreat from their outposts on Midgard, so their people’s new found longing for peace came as a relief to them. _

__

_ Odin agreed to a meeting in the temple of Utgard, where the Casket of Ancient Winters was kept. Here, at the most sacred of all places of Jötunheim, Fárbauti and Odin would initiate their peace talks. _

__

_ When the day arrived, Fárbauti brought only a guard of honour with him. He came in good faith and carried Loki, who was very small for a Jötunn child, in his arms to be blessed in front of the Casket.  _

__

_ Odin, however, had brought an army. _

__

__

_ When Fárbauti realised his mistake, it was too late to run or call for help: the fight was quickly over, resembling bloody murder more than a honourable battle between warriors. The last thing Fárbauti did in this life was taking Odin’s eye out with his dagger. _

__

_ It is said that Odin only cast a short glance at the babe lying on the floor of the temple, laughed, took the Casket, and went away. Loki may have been small for a Jötunn child, but even from the beginning of her pregnancy, Laufey had known that the child would be a sorcerer with powers to match those of the greatest mages in the whole history of Jötunheim and beyond. Odin, who was a powerful magic-wielder himself, had undoubtedly hoped to rid himself of a potentially dangerous future adversary by leaving the prince behind. Because without the power of the Casket to protect him, Loki would surely not survive the night. But unknown to Odin, Elli, Loki’s nurse who just wouldn’t trust a man to take proper care of her precious charge, was hiding nearby. Elli had quite a temper and sent Odin a curse that would soon start to puzzle all of Asgard and made the godlike, omnipotent ruler a bit of a joke on the branches of  the world-tree Yggdrasil. Not that anybody dared to laugh openly; Odin was known to get very creative when he felt offended. And as soon as the All-father and his troops had left the sanctum, the nurse picked up the babe and carried him to the ruins of the royal palace where his anxious family was already waiting for them, hoping for good news. _

__

_ Laufey took the news of her husband’s death and Odin’s betrayal without a word. For nine days and nine nights, the queen refused to speak or eat. Then she summoned the surviving members of the royal council. _

__

__

_ Loki grew up surrounded by utter poverty like everybody else on Jötunheim. His playground were the crumbling ruins of a formerly proud and glorious realm, and, like all Jötnar, the prince knew what hunger felt like. But he also knew the comfort of a loving family, with Elli and his two older brothers watching over him while his mother worked hard to safe their people. Loki was, and always would be, small for a member of the race of giants he came from. His magic soon started to exceed expectations though, and the Jötnar began to whisper that the Casket itself was reaching out for their young prince from its exile on Asgard. Still, Jötunheim was falling to pieces around them.  _

__

_ With the Casket of Ancient Winters, their main source of power, gone, the giants realised they had to act quickly if they didn’t want to become extinct within a generation or two. And this was why all eyes turned towards Loki, who was still a toddler at that time, and Laufey and the sorcerers and elders of Jötunheim started devising a cunning plan to safe their world. _

*****

“Lopt, my friend,” Skopti said in his booming voice. “You’ll fall off your horse next if you don’t stop daydreaming.” 

“I’m sorry,” Loki answered. “But everything around here is so new to me.”

“Missing your folks already, eh? I know what it feels like. I remember how I, when I went to war on Vanaheim as a warrior in Odin’s army, spend many nights awake because I missed my family. But look, you can already see the inn at the end of the road from here. We’ll spend the night there, feast on roast boar, and you can drown your sorrows in mead and ale.” 

_Have you been on Jötunheim, too, Skopti?_ _You people invaded Vanaheim before you fought us_ , Loki thought. “Ah,” the prince said out loud. “No drinks for me, Harald. We don’t drink alcohol on Jotünheim and I fear I have zero tolerance. Is that a problem?”

Harald laughed. “Well, it’s certainly unusual, but not unheard of. You’ll surely have a lot of explaining to do.”

“So I’m going to need a story?”

“You do indeed. You are among the Aesir now, and if there’s one thing we love more than drink, women, and battle (not necessarily in that order), it’s a good tale.”

Loki considered this. “Since I’m pretending to be a questing sorcerer who is searching for crystals and ancient magic artefacts, I guess I could say that I need to keep my head clear for my work.”

“Because you’re a magic-wielder and your focus has to be as clear as the crystals you are looking for? Sounds good, but I don’t know. No, won’t hold, I fear. I’ve seen  _ seiðmenn _ drinking warriors under the table, and that’s when accidents happen.”

“Accidents? I think we can work with that. Let’s say I  _ got _ drunk, and something terrible  _ did  _ happen, so my abstinence is supposed to be some kind of penance for my transgressions.”

The Aesir guide was looking impressed and quite excited now. “But what did you do? Blow something up? Or insult everybody present? Did you turn someone into a frog and are now looking for a way to turn them back?”

“You truly do love a story,” Loki said in surprise. He felt his pent-up tension leaving him and he relaxed a little. For the first time he noticed Harald’s broad smile and the wrinkles around his eyes, and how they deepened when he laughed. The prince decided to give the Aesir the benefit of the doubt and smiled back at him. “So help me make up a good one to keep my audience satisfied.”

“Very well,” Harald exclaimed. ”You’re a man after my own heart, Lopt. Now how about this...”

And so the men started to spin a yarn while approaching the inn where Loki would eat his first Aesir meal and spend his first night among the people who he had been taught to consider his worst enemies all his life, and whose leader had already tried to kill him once when he was only a few hours old.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading my fic!
> 
> Would you like to leave a comment or do you have any suggestions for this fic? I'd love to hear them!
> 
> Aaaaand, last but not least: A happy new year to you all!


	2. Market Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Loki's first morning on Asgard, and he and Harald Skopti decide to explore the village they stay in. But what about this strange hint of magic in the air that somehow seems to taste like metal? Loki is determined to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops chapter and runs*

The following morning was bright and warm, and it looked as if Asgard had decided to show her new guest her most beautiful side. It was late summer, most of the harvesting work was done, and bales of hay were sitting in the meadows. They would provide valuable cattle fodder during the coming months.

 

Luckily, the climate on Asgard was mostly mild, and tales of the arctic cold and eternal snow of Jötunheim were generally regarded as cock-and-bull stories by the members of the younger generation who had never had a chance to visit their neighbouring realm. They had never learned what winter could mean, so the approaching season held no terror for them. Still, even though the Aesir didn’t have to butcher most of their cattle in preparation for an icy, hungry wintertime, people, especially the elderly, were already busy to preserve food and fill their larders in the traditional way. There were many markets, festivals, and fairs on Asgard at this time of year, and the small village where Loki and Harald stayed was no exception.

 

 

When the prince and his guide left the inn they'd spent the night at, Loki watched with curiosity as people flocked to the market where a dozen or so vendors cried their wares. Carpenters were building a small stage in the village green and Loki overheard a group of young girls discussing the musicians who would play at tonight’s dance.

 

“Wanna take a look?” Harald asked, and Loki nodded. He’d never seen so much food in one place, certainly not on Jotunheim and not on Ljosalfheim, where he’d lived for two years to study the art of Elvish potion making, either. Already, freshly-harvested apples were on display, their colours ranging from bright green over golden yellow to the deepest purple, and Loki marvelled at the countless varieties of cabbage available. Harald, pleased by this show of Asgard’s wealth, laughed his deep, boisterous laugh, and told Loki the names of the various tubers, edible roots, vegetables, and fruit the Jötunn didn’t recognise. So much ignorance caused several matrons to frown at him, which made Harald tell them that his cousin had just arrived from the realm of the Light Elves where his family was running a small trading post. He was more or less repeating parts of the very clever yarn he had spun in the taproom of the inn last night, which contained many half-truths, several biographical facts, a decent amount of lies, and no Jötnar at all. Loki had enjoyed himself tremendously while listening and sipping a slightly bitter herbal tea laced with honey, although he felt that the reason Harald had given for his abstinence from alcoholic beverages was a bit over the top. _A good story,_ he thought. _Skopti has surely outdone himself by making it up. I just hope it won’t backfire._

 

Nevertheless, it had made everybody go silent for a minute or two while the Aesir gazed at Loki in a mixture of awe and fear. And as soon as the prince finished his tea, the men just rushed to buy him a new cup while the few ladies present offered him goat milk from their own jugs.

 

Because suddenly, everybody felt it was very important to keep this handsome young stranger, whom Harald had introduced as a distant cousin, away from the beer kegs and the mead.

 

 

Even now, the morning after, Loki noticed men looking at him, whispering at each other or pointing him out. But before he could complain to Harald about this, he sensed a hint of magic in the air. It was just the slightest thing, like the susurrus of skeletal autumn leaves stroked by a gentle spring breeze in  ****the month of May, but it was undoubtedly there. The magic carried a faint taste of metal, and that was something the prince was not familiar with. Loki looked around, trying to find the source.

 

“What is it?” Harald asked when he noticed the other man’s confusion.

 

“Is there a magic wielder in the village? A witch perhaps, or a seiðmann?”

 

Harald shrugged. “Very unlikely, my friend. The witch has left five years ago, and, since Odin no longer favours the occult arts, no one is willing to take her place.” The Áss leaned a little closer to Loki and whispered, “I’ve heard a lot of magic people are leaving the realm now.”

 

“But I was told that most of them are also healers, especially in remote places like this.”

 

“Well, there’s a travelling healer who visits once or twice a year.”

 

Loki was shocked. “So people are left on their own? What if there’s an accident?” He knew his mother would never allow this to happen on Jötunheim.

 

“They’d have to send for the surgeon from the next garrison and hope for the best.”

 

“What about a difficult birth?”

 

“Oh, I doubt a field surgeon could help in that case. Although, after all I’ve heard about the going-ons in the barracks, I guess a proper midwife could make an excellent living there.”

 

The prince rolled his eyes. He’d heard more than his share of saucy tales last night and could happily wait till next year before listening to more. So he grabbed his guide by the arm, pointed at a gaudily dressed man on a narrow platform nearby who was holding up a small bottle and asked, “Who’s that?”

 

“Liótr? He’s the travelling quack in these parts. When the old witch was still here, she used to sweep the likes of him out with her broom.”

 

“Now that’s a story I’d love to hear,” Loki told the Áss and wended his way through the throng of shoppers and rubberneckers to get closer to the podium where the quack doctor advertised his potion.

 

 

“Prepare yourself for the autumn rains and take a look at this wondrous panacea!” the mountebank praised. “Do like the gods and nobles of Glaðsheim do, and fill your larder with Liótr’s All-purpose Potion, guaranteed to heal all known ailments. And it will not only heal you, but it will also keep you safe from the flu, rheumatism, gout, tooth decay ...”

 

“It’s only moonshine, you silly old billy goat!” a market-woman shouted.

 

The man sneered. “With herbs! This patented medicine was blessed by Eir, the Goddess of Healing, herself, and even Queen Frigga gave it to Prince Thor when he was only a babe and came down with measles!”

 

“No way the Queen would give your poisonous _snaps_ to her little boy, Liótr,” the woman exclaimed.

 

The crowd murmured their consent, but somewhere behind the platform someone said, “Well, at least that would explain why he’s all brawn and no brains.”

 

Loki could hear suppressed laughter, but he also sensed people getting nervous. _Fear_ , he thought. _Suddenly everybody’s afraid. But why? Because of a jest?_

 

Even the marketer seemed to have lost heart now and added hastily, “Her Majesty is a wise, learned lady who would never let you come near the prince.”

 

“Slander! Slander! The Queen has shown me her own herb garden out of gratitude and has recommended my potion to all her relatives and friends.”

 

At this point, the market-woman held up a handful of apples. “See this? A whole bag for only one small piece of hacksilver. Fresh, sweet, and juicy, and _almost_ as wholesome as if Idunn herself had grown them.”

 

Unlike Liótr, the fruiterer knew better than putting her gods’ patience to the test.

 

 

People laughed, and quite a few went to her stall to buy the apples. A few others, though, stayed behind and approached the charlatan’s makeshift stage silently. They looked embarrassed, but they were still prepared to spend their hard-earned money on a promise that, as they already knew deep in their hearts, wouldn’t be fulfilled. Against all odds, they were hoping for nothing less than a miracle.

 

“He’ll sell more at the feast tonight when everybody’s in their cups,” Harald, who had followed Loki, mumbled, and the prince could tell he didn’t like what Liótr was doing.

 

“The potion’s no good and the man is a liar,” Loki said, feeling slightly disappointed. “The only magic I can see here is a good show.”

 

“You think they’re in it together?”

 

“No. Her rage was real.”

 

 

And so the two men walked on, passing by the potter's booth where serious looking ladies were choosing earthenware jars to store their victuals in. Next to the potter, a salt merchant, a vinegar brewer, a spice trader, and an oil miller were selling their goods. Their stalls were decked out in matching colours and the ladies walked to and fro, sometimes stopping to exchange greetings and news, and visited the various vendors to get their supplies.

 

“It seems to me those five merchants are working together, though,” Loki observed after a while. “The arrangement looks like a market in itself.”

 

“Well, earthenware is ideal for keeping salted and pickled foods, like herrings, cucumbers or cabbage,” Harald explained. “You need a lot of salt, vinegar, and spices to prepare them properly. And oil is best stored in clay bottles.”

 

“I see. Very smart.” Then Loki spotted a small booth that was standing on a shadowed, isolated corner as if it was trying to hide. It was decorated with sweet smelling bouquets of dried herbs and lavender, and a young woman in a neat dress was in charge of it. The faint trace of metal-flavoured magic was definitely stronger here than anywhere else at the market, and Loki eyed the saleslady critically. _No, no serious magic wielder either; the magic she has isn’t strong enough for sorcery,_ the prince realised. _But her wares look promising._

 

Loki felt the woman’s gaze on him and looked at her again. Blue eyes, keen and intelligent, yellow hair, and red, smiling lips. The Jötunn hadn’t learned to appreciate the finer points of Aesir physiognomy yet, otherwise, he would have noticed her rosy cheeks, her dimples, her shapely nose, and all the other features that marked her as beautiful amongst her kind.

 

“Good day,” she said politely. “How may I help you?”

 

Loki didn't return her smile, but, with a determination worthy of his brother Helblindi, the mightiest Jötunn alive, the prince braced himself for his first shopping experience on Asgard.


End file.
